Beyond the bitter winter
by Chengwangofmacau
Summary: Tino tried to find him first, but was found. Now Russia has the upper hand


**I'm sorry for no new story, please don't hurt me! But here's this, I have a feeling it's going to be short, but oh well. I personally ship RusFin, but...that's me. But here's this! I'm still doing research and studying different battles in history, so please don't hurt me if there is something off or incorrect.**

…

 **Tino: Finland**

 **Ivan: Russia**

 **Berwald: Sweden**

…

The man felt so close to the others, just shy of feeling their body heat, but they were so far away, marching to a silent beat that Tino couldn't hear. The soldiers marched by at least one hundred yards away from him, but he could see as their breaths fogged in front of their faces, he could see the glistening clumps of snow in their hair. So close, yet so far. The small black 'x' of his scope stayed trained on their heads, his chocolate eyes studying each of their faces, but none looking of the one he wanted most. The bitter cold had long since melted into a numbness, dully noted by the blonde. Silent curses flew from the Finnish mans lips as his scope hit sparkling snow, not finding his target within the group of men. Tino but his bottom lip, grinding the flesh between his teeth. A job was a job, and last he checked these Russians were in Finland, not where they should be, all lead by Ivan. If Tino could get to Ivan, neutralize the man, the soldiers would be lost, but a his stomach churned painfully, an old saying coming to his mind

"cut off the head of a hydra, two more grow back" he whispered to himself, setting his rifle by his side, not needing it for now. Word had come in five days ago that Ivan was seen crossing the Finnish border, already in Kotka, heading for Helsinki, but the man was no longer anywhere near his troops. A large billow of fog formed in front of the man as he sighed, sitting back on his haunches, bringing his wool glove clad hands to cover his mouth, letting the warm breath swim over the material and seep into his frozen skin.

"I'm missing something" he muttered to himself, scanning the snow as if it held all the answers of the world. Berwald warned him of the dangers, to never let the enemy sneak up on him, to remain sharp. But as the seconds passed, the feeling in his stomach grew and grew. Four days of sitting up on the ledge, watching and waiting hadn't payed off, and he was running out of food to eat and the cold was becoming a little more bothersome. Caught in his own mind, Tino didn't hear the crunch of snow behind him, he didn't hear the man until his gun was kicked away, the weapon skidding across the hard snow until it fell over the edge and down to the snow underneath, potentially alerting the troops yards away. (from the sounds vibrating off trees and rocks).

"Hello, Tino. Long time no see, да" well hell, he found Tino first. Curses flew threw the Finns head as he turned towards the man slowly, a fake smile plastered across his face

"Hei, Ivan! Glad to see you" it wasn't necessarily a lie, but he would much more prefer the see the Russian bleeding at his feet, not standing in front of him with that wicked gleam in his violet eyes that never seemed to leave.

For minutes the other tried to stare down the other, chocolate against purple, neither submitting to the other.

"get out of Finland" the words were demanded, quit forcefully for the small man, but enough to evoke a reaction from the taller.

"why would I want to do that?" the Russian seemed so childish, so innocent, Tino almost took pity upon him, but the vision of what the man would do to the Finns if he won was enough for the rage to take over once again

"Not your land" Ivan gave a small chuckle at the words, his smile becoming wider across his face

"I'm only here to punish you. Finland was an axis power, some fault falls onto your shoulders, да? So as the Soviet union and the closest Allied power to you, I must be the one to punish you" Tino grit his teeth, setting his jaw in a show of anger

"Leave" Tino knew it was a far cry, and that the likely of the man actually leaving was short, but it was worth a try

"Nyet my little Finnish babochka" Tino honestly didn't see the rush until it was too late. The Finn tried to stop the boot from impact, but he wasn't fast enough. The heavy boot connected with his chest, propelling him backwards and off the ledge, sending him in the same direction as his gun

 **Tada! Hope you like it**

 **nyet- no in russian**

 **babochka- butterfly in russian**

 **да – yes in russian**

 **Hei- hello in finnish**

if you have any questions just ask. This is not made to be historically correct, I am trying though. Based off of right after world war 2 and between world war 2 and the start of the winter war.

 **Please review.**


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